“Still, there are men who never did a mean thing or counted the cost when they saw what was expected of them. Can’t one fancy their passing the gates of that fairyland the easier because they are stained with the dust of the strife, and reaching out towards communion with the spirits of those old loyal folk who went before them—they, and the women they believe in?” There was a moment’s silence. Nettie’s face was a trifle flushed, and a faint gleam showed in Violet Wayne’s gray eyes. “I think,” said the vicar reflectively, “you might go further and say— with all angels and archangels! We will take it that fairyland is only a symbol.” Tony, however, laughed indolently. “One would feel tempted to wonder whether there are many men who never did a mean thing.” A curious anger came upon Nettie. Tony Palliser seemed the embodiment of all that her simple strenuous nature despised, and he who had everything had taken from a better man the blameless name which was his one possession. He sat before her honored and prosperous, while she remembered Appleby’s weariness and rags, and obeyed the impulse that drove her to unmask him. Her answer was coldly incisive. “There are. You know one of them,” she said. “No,” said Tony, and there was a trace of anxiety in his glance, “I am not sure that I do, though I have some passable friends.” “Well,” said Nettie, “I certainly met one, and he did not wear a label. In fact, he was a smuggler of rifles and a leader of the Shameless Legion, but he was very loyal to his comrades, and when he was wounded and weary with battle he risked and lost a good deal to take care of a woman who had no claim on him. She had, he felt, been committed to his trust, and he would have been torn to pieces before he failed in it. That was why the knight’s face reminded me of his—but I have told you about him already.” Tony’s face expressed relief, and Nettie sat silent a moment until the vicar said, “It was a generous impulse, but it may have been a momentary one, while in the crusader’s case there must have been a sustaining purpose, and a great abnegation, a leaving of lands and possessions he might never regain.” Nettie realized that her task must be undertaken now, and wondered that she felt so quietly and almost mercilessly collected. “Still,” she said, “the man I mentioned did as much—not to win fame or a pardon for his sins, but to save a comrade who was not worthy of the sacrifice. You would like me to tell you about it?” Hester smiled in languid approbation, and the vicar’s face showed his interest; but Tony sat very still, with the fingers of one hand quivering a little, and Violet’s eyes seemed curiously grave as she fixed them upon the girl.